Thursday, February 18, 2016

In which the mortified, apologetic pond swears fealty and loyalty to the authentically silly Dame Slap ...

(Alternative titles? Poodle staring at blank wall blankly? A void focussed on the infinite void?)

It goes without saying that it was absolutely remiss of the pond yesterday not to acknowledge Dame Slap's celebration of the need for a good, firm, hard man, like a Donald or a Barners ...

What can the pond do but offer mortified apologies and do its best to repair the damage.

Oh sure some might expect the pond to dally with the Bolter, still maintaining the rage on behalf of the Pellists ...

Oh how the pond's heart keens for the shamed, frightened, disgusted Bolter keening for the suffering of the Pellists ... what's wrong with people, carrying on about a bit of sexual molestation?

But be still, throbbing, pulsating heart, because the reptiles see Dame Slap as a promotional item in their loss leader branding strategy ...

Of course if you click on that link (not here, not with a photo cap), you get trolled straight to a subscription link, because the reptiles believe that anyone in their right mind would hand over the readies for a quick fix of Dame Slap ...

But what do you get? 

Apart from learning that Dame Slap yearns for a good, firm, hard man, perhaps from the Mussolini school of authenticity ... and that Dame Slap believes in the power of prayer, and no doubt talking snakes and water into wine and abundant loaves and fishes and wafers into flesh and above all, Barners as the salvation of the country ...

... on the basis that he speaks dinkum, and isn't afraid to step into a moist cowpat, even without his gummies on ...

Oh faaaaawwkkk, as crows and Graham Kennedy are wont to say repeatedly on the pond.

It seems that a fuckwit might be a fuckwit, but if he's an authentic fuckwit, why that's just jim dandy and hunky dory.

You can see where this leads Dame Slap ... to reveal her deep fascination with the immensely authentic charms of the Trumpster ...

Now at this point the pond could have run with any number of Trump cartoons, or even dug up bogan cricket jokes ...

We might have noted how the reptiles keep gazing at the fluff in their navels, and so once again Brian Loughnane turns up like a bad reportorial penny, as if in the day of the full to overflowing intertubes there weren't much better sources and insights available on US politics.

But no, the pond will just content itself to note that, in some men and women - let us not be sexist here - there has always been a taste for rough trade, for the bogan.

It routinely amazes the pond that some have lain down with Shane Warne and done the beast with two backs ...

Well we had to throw in a cricket reference ... but surely the point here is that Dame Slap yearns for some rough Heathcliffian character, and Barners is the best equivalent of teh Donald on the local scene.

Never mind what the fuckwitted dimwit might actually say or do. He just needs to smoulder or badmouth people or strut about like an authentic fascist, and that'll do, pig, that'll do ...

It is, however you cut it, weird shit ... and it's even weirder when Dame Slap goes on to talk about the weird ...

So Barners is going to fix the country ...

And Dame Slap talks about the weird and the bizarre and the odd clanger ...

But it's around the point where Dame Slap said that maybe Barnaby is just a bit like many of us that the pond could no longer stand the defamations ...

Tamworth has many good people who aren't a bit like the Barners blow-fly blow-in. And Barners has about as much bush grit as a country bloody accountant donning a bit of R M Williams gear to go talk spreadsheets with cockies ...

Weird shit and the pond is deeply remorseful for not featuring the Slap, but to tell the truth, yesterday the pond had attempted to listen to the actual Treasurer of the country blathering interminably for 45 minutes on ways to fix the country ...

Not the authentic, gritty real farmyard chook Barners, but the actual goose Treasurer ... and the reports weren't kind ...

And so on ... 

Well you can read the Kouk here, but all the pond's noting is the way that this puts Dame Slap's bubble-headed blathering in some context ...

What's the point of celebrating teh Donald's authenticity if he authentically fucks the country?

What's the point of blathering on about a clueless minister for agriculture, who only helped save the mine from going ahead because economic conditions made it so, when the canary in the coalmine is a speaking in tongues man from the Shire?

What, in an existential way, is the point of Dame Slap at all, except as a warning to others?

Oh and an excuse to run a couple of the pond's favourite cartoonists, with more Pope here and more Rowe here ...


  1. First name recognition? Don't they all have that? Tones and Warren, Juliar and Wayne, Kevin didn't need another name, Bob and Paul, John and …. oh, wait.

  2. Who can forget this memorable televisual moment celebrated by Pickering last night? (no not that one, Charlie).

  3. … and Dame Slap's comment about "being weird is an altogether different thing" is obviously not feeding in to the reptiles' business plan.

  4. ScoMo has just spent precious minutes "conversing" with Michael B on AM. Trouble is, he couldn't get his mouth out of second gear. So, what he said sounded like gabble. If he had a "vision" in amongst that lot it was swamped by breathless verbiage. Doesn't he like his job? Is he trying to make Barnaby look good? What is going on?

    1. That what speaking in tongues does to you.

    2. Have you noticed how all the pics of ScoMo in the media now show him with his mouth shut?
      He's finally picked up on David Rowe's 'snarly dog' portrayal.

  5. "Like him or loathe him, when Trumps speaks, people listen."

    Does this newspaper have an editor, or sub-editor at all? Next thing, she'll be writing that the War in Iraq is a good idea, and someone will publish it.

    Farrrkkkkk indeed.

    1. That sort of logic - the louder and more offensive the better - is a weird thing to me but then I didn't make it very far up that ladder of success in Dame Slaps meritocracy. I'm a bit proud of that now, I think.

  6. Dame Slaps love letter to Barnaby will be famous for just one thing. The only place where the words "Barnaby" and "sober" can be found in the one sentence.

  7. My dear old Mum used to describe Joh as "refreshing".

    She lived all her married life in Sydney but had farmer rellies in Qld. She was genuinely of the belief that Joh was good news.

    We don't have any relatives or friends in St George and Mum passed away last century so I figure that I'm safe in stating that BJ is worthy of the "authentic" tag.

    Authentic idiot springs to mind.

    1. But did you bring the brown paper bag with you?

      Never mind, we had relatives in Kogarah and they faithfully followed the recipe for scones and corruption ...

    2. Believe it or not not, dp, my accountant for a number of years was John Garde.

      Imagine my surprise when I saw him being marched down the stairs of his practice by a couple of plain clothes dicks (during Fitzgerald era).

      Imagine my horror when I realised that the Tax Office would probably go over his clients with a fine tooth comb.

      Years of anxiety for nought. I was a nobody - merely one of his legitimate clients. Good accountant, though. A "pick a number" kind of guy.


Comments older than two days are moderated and there will be a delay in publishing them.